ignite me / p. pevensie

chapter forty-two

Rowyn awoke with a hitched breath and blurry vision. The room was quiet—the only sounds being from the crickets outside her open window and the melody of wind passing through tree leaves. Rowyn's heart sank down as she reached her hand over and was met with cold sheets and her textbooks along with a few loose papers she was editing.

Her vision blurred more and she turned over to lay on her back and stare at the ceiling. Her bottom lip began to tremble as flashes of the dream filled her head and pretty soon the tears began to overflow as well. "Peter? Lucy? Ed? Mom?" She asked out into the silence that surrounded her. The silence that she was met with after that made more tears fill her vision. "Guess it's no use trying to talk to the dead, huh?" Rowyn sat up and shifted her body so her feet were now resting on the ground as her hands rested on the bed beside her.

In that moment, as the cold night air brushed against her bare legs and glided through the thin white tank-top she wore, she had never felt more alone. Peter was dead. Lucy was dead. Edmund was dead. Adeline was dead. Everyone she loved was gone except for her dads. She worried about them everyday—if everyone else she loved as gone, then she worried they would be taken from her soon as well. As more worry settled in her veins, Rowyn grabbed her guitar, which rested against her bed-frame, and walked onto her balcony.

The wood of the instrument was cold as she set it onto her legs after she sat down and began to pluck at the strings. Guitar was something she used to take her mind off of things after losing Peter for the final time. It helped distract her from the pain that stabbed in her chest repeatedly. She wasn't that good at playing—she only knew a few songs—but it helped.

After tuning the guitar for a minute, she shifted her seating and began to play the beginning of a song. "If I ever were to lose you . . . I'd surely lose myself . . ." Rowyn couldn't bring herself to sing anything else after her voice began to crack and her finger shook.

Rowyn clenched her hand and closed her eyes taking a deep breath. A different cold brush made her open her eyes. She knew that familiar cold brush of air. The dark shadow moving to sit beside her only confirmed that it was Casper. Rowyn deep down wanted to turn and face him but a part of her was mad at the ghost. Mad at him for leaving her for last few years. For leaving her when she was more alone then ever.

Instead of looking at him, Rowyn adjusted her seating and plucked more at the strings. "Talking away, I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyways, today's another day to find you. Shying away, I'll be coming for your love, okay. Take on me . . . take me on. I'll be gone . . ."

"In a day or two."

"In a day or two." Another voice sounded at the same time as Rowyn, nearly making her drop the guitar as she turned around to see Andy leaning against the door-frame to her balcony with a smile on her face and her arms crossed. "So much for 'not being able to sing.'" She smiled and pushed off the door-frame to sit beside Rowyn, right where Casper had been. The shadow moved out of the corner of her eyes before disappearing entirely. For a moment, Rowyn questioned if that really was him or if she was imagining things.

"Oh shut up." Rowyn forced a smile and moved the guitar off her lap. Andy smiled lovingly at her as Rowyn turned her attention back towards the quiet city lights. A moment later, Andy leaned back on the bench with a huff.

"Sure is pretty, huh?" Rowyn smiled gently at this as she watched the lights twinkled underneath the dark sky.

"It's beautiful." Her voice was quiet but enough for Andy to read through.

Andy shifted her seating and straightened her posture. "Hey, um," She began while wiping the sweat off her palms. "I was thinking you and I could take a train ride to Finchley tomorrow since it's Saturday and all." She huffed out nervously at the end.

Rowyn shook her head before turning to face Andy. "Andy, I can't—we've been over this." Rowyn stood up to lean on the railing of her balcony.

"I think it would be good for you, Ro." Andy defended as she too came to lean against the railing. "You should do it . . . maybe it'll give you closure."

Rowyn stifled a bitter laugh. "I don't get closure with this . . ." Her eyes threatened to burn.

"You'll never know until you try, Rowyn." Andy told her. "I hate seeing you like this—with your forced smiles and dry laughs. You come home, study, and sleep—you never even try to hangout with me or Nate anymore! If visiting Peter may help you move past this then I think you should try because I just want my best friend back."

Rowyn picked at her thumb as she thought. "I'm scared, Andy . . . that's why I don't want to go."

"Why?" Andy's voice was low and sad.

Rowyn's vision blurred as she thought more. "Because seeing it—seeing his grave, that makes it real . . . makes the fact that he's death real. That he's gone and I may never see him again or when I do it'll be when I'm starting at a rock slab with his name engraved in it . . . I don't know if I could do it."

Andy squeezed Rowyn's hand. "You can't hide from reality, Ro . . . it'll eat away at you—it already is but you can stop it . . . I'll be by your side if you go."

Rowyn met her teary gaze and took a deep breath. "Promise?" Andy smiled at her and squeezed her hand tighter.

"Of course." Rowyn smiled at her words and then turned back to face the city. Rowyn placed her right hand over left wrist. "You never told me the story behind them." Andy said as she observed Rowyn's gesture.

Rowyn looked down at her wrist. Just beneath her palm rested five birds embedded in her skin with black ink. They weren't detailed at all—they were like the type of birds that Rowyn would draw in her notebook during elementary school that only consisted of two curved lines that were connected at the middle.

"They represent them." Rowyn breathed out. "This one is Edmund, this one is Susan, Lucy, that one is my mother and this one-" She pointed to the final bird that rested closest to her palm—the leader of all the other birds. "This one is Peter . . ." She traced the ink that was forever embedded in her skin.

Andy smiled sadly at Rowyn. "Why birds?"

Rowyn took a deep breath and straightened her posture. "Because birds are free and it makes me feel better to know that they are free of any pain—that they're free of worry and just feel happy in whatever lies after."

"I'm sure they are." Andy squeezed her hand. "And I'm sure they'll be waiting for you when you finally join them."

Rowyn nodded down at the birds before looking back up at Andy. "I hope so."